


Let the Games Begin

by cosmicconundrum



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2016 Summer Olympics, M/M, Olympics, Some Swearing, Sports, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicconundrum/pseuds/cosmicconundrum
Summary: It's the 5th of August, 2016, and the Summer Olympics have just begun in Rio, Brazil.America gets ready for some friendly competition between himself and the other nations in what have been dubbed the Auxilympics, a special and nonofficial set of matches between the personifications of all the countries.





	Let the Games Begin

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written during the Olympics of 2016. However, I never finished the fic, and it has been lying around in my drive for years. Since the 2018 Winter Olympics have just ended, I figured it was time this got published, even if it is somewhat unfinished!

The loud cheering of the crowd was the first thing America took in as he walked into the arena. The bright lights contrasting sharply against the dark night sky were the second. America strode along confidently, surrounded by his citizens, athletes of all types, all here to do the same thing: kick butt in competitions and win medals.

 _Fuck yeah,_ America thought silently to himself, and smirked.

The Olympics actually occurred quite often from a nation’s perspective. After all, waiting for four years was nothing compared to the centuries some had to endure between events or a chance at glory. But every time they occurred, America would go crazy in his efforts to be the best. He would try so hard, praying for his own athletes, hoping that the intense training and practice they had gone through in the last however many years would help them to win. And every time the games ended, America would go home either feeling super proud of himself, or dying from anxiety as he worried about the next Olympics, or feeling depressed that the current Olympics had ended. He would spend the next almost four years running around, doing his duties as a nation’s personification, and also worrying about the Olympics. Next time, he would do better, he had always promised himself.

And here was his chance.

Rio 2016. The 31st Olympics.

America smiled and waved at the massive crowd spread throughout the arena. To them, he looked like only another one of the several hundred athletes from the US. But he, of course, was a personification. Unfortunately, that meant that he himself couldn’t participate. The reasons were obvious. Personifications often had irregular abilities, strength and otherwise. The other nations always told America he was ridiculously strong for some reason, and there was no way he could fairly play in any of the games.

Not that that would be a problem.

He would always stand in the sidelines, rooting for his athletes and screaming bloody murder whenever one of them won. Often this screaming would be accompanied by the waving of his flag, or maybe jumping up and down in the stands. Sometimes the other people watching in the audience would tell him to “shut the fuck up,” or they would simply ignore him on the account that he was one of those “crazy Americans.” Which wasn’t entirely false.

He had been walking for about a minute now, and there, at the end of the walkway, stood the other nations and their athletes, all waiting around the sides and in a cluster. He waited for a long time as more nations came through the parade and joined the crowd. With a few quick glances, America made out several personifications he was well acquainted with. There was Germany, looking prepared but slightly nervous, surrounded by his athletes, all wearing their own uniforms. Off to the side was a very excited Italy who kept jumping around and occasionally paused to chat with his athletes. Slightly farther away were Hungary and Netherlands, who had struck up what seemed like a very intense discussion on something. America smiled to himself; it was always refreshing to see the nations he had known for so long relaxing and enjoying something fun, rather than constantly having to fuss over world meetings and solving the world’s most pressing issues like global warming and whatever. This was a month of partying and he would make it last as long as he could.

He turned around and continued scanning the heads of the attendees. Oh, there was Japan, standing very, very still. Next to him was Russia, as well as Cameroon, Cuba, and France. Some of the people from assorted countries began moving around and talking with one another, which America found to be so heartwarming and sweet he barely resisted gushing over it. While he himself took the competitions very seriously, he was glad that there was no intense hatred in the air; that was quite rude and often ruined the games for all that were watching.

Even farther from the crowd, still, was China, surrounded by a group of athletes that almost paralleled America’s in size. He looked very ready and determined. America gulped.

America turned around and practically bumped his head against England, who had appeared out of nowhere.

“Sheesh! You almost gave me a concussion!” America screamed, laughing.

“Me? You’re the one who turned around too fast for his own good,” England snapped, a perfect reflection of his usual grumpy mood.

America simply smiled, closed his eyes, and continued soaking in the pleasant atmosphere and background noise of the cheering crowd like he would with the sun at the beach. Wow, this was great. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have such fun! Perhaps they should start hosting more of these international sporting events. The Olympics and FIFA were never enough to quench the nations’ immense thirst to kick each other’s butts and then gloat about the victories.

England was silent as well. He was looking at America, who seemed to have fallen asleep on his feet, frozen with a smile on his face. England almost made the mistake of smiling gently. He would definitely not smile, at least not sweetly, of the face of the nation he secretly maybe possibly had some feelings for, and whom he was determined to face off and win in several events. It wasn’t too fair that America always won so many of the events. And England was totally not that old! He just didn’t have as much of an interest in sports, that’s all.

Perhaps this year he would do better.

England had been trying to gain the respect of the younger nation through sports and generally being a lot stronger for decades. The Olympics was simply another attempt, an opportunity for victory. Maybe this year would be better. Maybe.

America had reopened his eyes, and was waving around wildly at various random people who happened to look in his direction. England rolled his eyes and accidentally let a smile grin show. Meanwhile, the last of the nations were walking through the parade. And there he was, Brazil, the host of the Olympics, looking very proud.

All of the personifications simultaneously waved to Brazil, who waved back just as enthusiastically.

Several loud bangs sounded from the sky. Everyone looked up as the fireworks were shot off. The sky glowed a brilliant red. The remaining uncheering members of the audience in the stands erupted in overwhelming applause.

Then, silence.

The president of the committee for organizing the Olympics, or something close to that, stepped up to a podium and began the speech. America didn’t focus through most of it, but he did clap and cheer very loudly at the end. Then, the representative of Brazil walked up, and the games had begun.

Amongst the screaming and wild clapping of all watchers, America turned to England and asked, “Are you ready?”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

America jumped out of his bed so fast he forgot that he was in a hotel and subsequently fell. He lay on the ground, dazed, for a few moments, before gathering the courage and motivation to get up once more. The day’s events hit him like a train. The first official day of the Olympic games was often the most fun, because everyone gradually got back into the proper mood and routine to participate in competitions. America also found it to be the most tiring day, since he had fallen out of habit of waking up early.

It was 6:00 am in the morning.

Somewhere outside the hotel window, a parrot or some other type of rainforest bird chirped.

America stretched for a few seconds. His spine cracked so loudly he had to wince. He couldn’t be getting old, could he? He was only, like, 240!

America rushed through the morning’s proceedings, as he was eager to get started with the day. The nations, being special and all, had a lot of power to manipulate the inner workings of events such as the Olympics, something they all took advantage of. They had arrived in Rio as citizen attendees of the events, and would appear as such formally. No one was to know who they really were. Most of the nations had gotten seats at several of the competition areas, if not all of them. That way, they would be able to cheer for their competitors.

America sighed.

This year, they would try something new. Because they were personifications and couldn’t exactly compete in the games as humans, they were left out. Last year, at the last world meeting, America had suggested that all the nations maybe possibly host their own independent, private Olympic games just for themselves, in an empty arena. They would all compete against each other as friends, fellow nations who wanted to have a little fun.

“We’re controlled by our people, right? So it should work! We’d basically be acting out and experiencing the competitions without even trying!” He had declared after getting all excited about the idea.

It had been the first time anyone ever called one of America’s ideas something other than awful. And boy was it a good idea. Whatever event was going on in the real Olympics would be mirrored by the nations, since they were the direct representation of their people’s actions. If an athlete of one country won at an event, the personification of that athlete’s nation would win that same event at the paralleled Olympics. It was a completely foolproof idea. Nothing could go wrong.

They dubbed it the Auxilympics, a nice portmanteau of auxiliary and Olympics.

Germany, being the perfectionist he was, had worked with the other nations, specifically Brazil, to clear up any legal issues with the use of an arena. Brazil was proud to show all the nations all nearby sports stadiums, swimming pools, and other locations vacant during the time the actual Olympics. The arenas were booked without any legal issue, and all the nations had to do was wait until it was time.

And now was the time. Day one. The first events would start at 8:00 am on the dot. Of course, there were several events going on at the same time, but whatever the nations all wanted to play out, they would. 8:00 am events spanned from archery to water polo to table tennis to fencing. Other events would start up, one by one, around a few each half hour. At 8:30 there were more events, and at 9:00, still more. In this method, the countries would miss out on a lot of the events, but they didn’t need to experience everything going on in the real Olympics to have fun in their own way.

America finished throwing his “awesome and sporty” clothes on, ran past the bathroom, checked out his hair and ensured it looked like he had rolled out of bed looking this amazing, grabbed the actually-prepared-beforehand-backpack full of his equipment for the day, and headed out.

His hotel wasn’t too far from the auxiliary arena. Despite what everyone else always assumed, America was one to walk, immersing himself in his environment.

Rio was a bustling city, full of markets, shops, and people. It was beautiful, but it also had aspects of every large city, some which weren’t too attractive. But America really wasn’t one to talk. The alleys of his own cities weren’t always better.

In about half an hour, he arrived at the venue. It was an old sports complex, but it was still used regularly. It contained a swimming pool not quite as large as the Olympic swimming pool, but good enough for their needs, a track field, and smaller areas for events like table tennis and volleyball. It was perfect.

America took off his backpack and slung it over his other shoulder; his arm was beginning to get sore.

“I’m here!” He called out into the arena as he slammed the door open.

Most of the others were already there. America spotted several with a quick glance, including South Africa, Brazil himself, and Cameroon. Some were loitering around, waiting for the last few nations to arrive. The ones that looked up after hearing America’s loud entrance gave him glares or rolls of the eye.

Wait, there was England right over there, sitting on a bench. America hid a burst of laughter at his posture. England normally berated America for slouching, and yet here he was, his spine so bent over America was surprised he wasn’t suffering from some old age condition or other.

America waved at England. England gave America a weary glance. America laughed, ignored whatever England was trying to imply to him, strode over to his friend, and made himself very comfortable on the remaining space on the bench.

And with that, the games began.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like, please check out my other fics under this username! And here is my tumblr, if you are interested: cosmicconundrum.tumblr.com
> 
> [](http://cosmicconundrum.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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